Jungle
by LuiScheer
Summary: Madison Lee - a raging 17 year old with a hatred for a world she thinks she knows perfectly. With a pretty bad childhood and a long history of drugs and violence behind her, she makes up her own rules to survive in the 'jungle' of Tacoma.  Jacob Black
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first story here. I'm cutting my chapters into pieces, since I have no idea how to do it any other way. I highly recommend reading this on mibba, though, the title is the same if you want to check it out.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter one**

Part 1.2

I was never really one for sleeping in.  
Time was only a little past seven as I opened up my eyes and looked around the room – _my _room, thank God, I was afraid I had gone home with someone like last weekend.  
That thought sent a feeling of unease through my body as I slowly, very slowly, let my eyes turn to the other side of the bed - no one there. I sighed, feeling proud of myself for not having brought home another guy in my drunken stupor last night. In the moment, I always feel powerful, passionate, horny, sexy; but the morning after, all my adrenaline was gone and I felt like a fucking slut.  
And I felt lonely, too. But I was used to that feeling since I had no family (not that I knew of) except from my failure of a mother, an aunt somewhere in Europe and my father who left us years ago. So I guess he didn't really count. I had no real friends either, I mean I knew people, they knew a bit about me and that was it.

But today, even without a drunken one night stand I knew I would feel lonely. My mom had disappeared again two days ago and normally it would take some time before she got back - even if she was a drunken mess, an idiot to the point of moronic and a bitch from the fiery depths of hell, she was in reality and all sadness the only thing I had left. I would probably be found by the authorities and be put into a foster home or an orphanage if she didn't come back or died.  
And trust me, even though this will seem like hell, it's a whole lot better than orphanages.  
So I took care of her.. like she never took care of me.

I suddenly realized I had been staring at the wall for so long that my eyes were beginning to tear up. I blinked the tears away as I tried to sit up, but it felt as if my heartbeat was in my head and the room was spinning too fast, so I laid down again, reaching for the pill bottle by the bed - an aspirin would do some good right now.  
As the medication was taking it's effect I admired the colors of the room - the sun was rising, and it sent pretty orange and pink lights into my room, lightening the whole atmosphere in here. Small particles of dust flew lightly around the room, only showing in the pretty light. My eyes scanned the rest of the room, momentarily stopping on my mirror on my closet.

I grimaced to myself as I saw my reflection - no wonder I didn't bring anyone home last night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter one**

Part 2.2

After a quick shower and some dull breakfast I shot a look inside my mom's bedroom. Empty. I already knew that, I just had to make sure.. Oh hell; I didn't even know why I was checking anymore.  
I grabbed my keys and made my way out the door, cautiously walking _around_ the mess on the floor. To my defense I hadn't really been home the last few days,_someone _had to work for living, and it surely wasn't my mom. Luckily, school had ended for me last year since I had started a year earlier. Which gave me a lot more time to .. well, I don't know yet.. work?  
Well, I _was_ working... Just not what you would consider the typical job. I was a drug dealer, a pick pocket, a thief - anything that could make a scratch, even a drag racer once. It wasn't something I was particularly proud of but it was always better than being a hooker or a stripper, I guess. Plus, it gave me a reputation so people either stayed away from me or were scared of me. And that suited me pretty well, if you ask me.  
The only downside was that it was a dangerous job - cops, drug addicts gone mad, old men who tried to rape you - you name it, I've seen it.

That's why I made a list of rules of how to survive in the city, the jungle of cement buildings with all the dangerous animals within. And truth was, it really_was_ like a jungle out there, you had to watch your every single step and be precautious if you wanted to be someone and not get killed in the environment I breathed and lived in.  
Example: **Rule # 12**: Always lock the door behind you, where ever you go, whatever you need. You never know who might get the idea of searching through your apartment while you're gone.

So I locked the door securely and left the apartment as it was, figuring I would be able to clean up the place before my mom got home; maybe that would make her stay a little longer.. I sighed as I took the stairs two at a time, quickly reaching the bottom and walking outside into the cold September air. Closing my jacket up a bit, I kept my head down; **Rule # 3**: Keep a low profile. You never know who might recognize you.  
I swiftly made my way to the street I was most familiar with in the area, checking for cops along the way. Today was a relatively calm day so I figured I wouldn't have too much trouble to deal with.  
The only run in I had was with a young boy, aged 15, who got a little aggressive when he realized he couldn't afford his cocaine. He reminded me of myself, sadly.

You might wonder how a 17 year old girl was still living and breathing with the job I had - hell, even I wondered - but I had my ways of gaining respect. Plus, I never went anywhere without a weapon which has helped me out numerous occasions.

I made my way home that day, looking over my shoulder constantly; **Rule # 17**: Always make sure no one is following you. You never know if a mad customer or maybe even a cop wants to know where you live.  
Finally, in the safety of my home, I saw that my mom still hadn't come back. And as I went to bed that night I wondered if I would be alone forever.

**Rule # 1**: Never let anyone get too close.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter two**

_Part 1.2_

Saturday night.

Music blasting from every club, the bass making the ground vibrate under the excited teens' feet, drunks puking at the back doors, stiletto heels clicking and bottles being smashed - ah, Saturday nights as I knew them.  
People were scattered everywhere; in front of the clubs freezing, inside the clubs, on the streets yelling like idiots and even some in the apartment windows, screaming at those on the street to shut the hell up.  
It was all very entertaining, to say the least.

And then there was me.

I was in an alley, alone (no shit) and freezing in the cold September night. Every time I exhaled a thin fog formed in front of my chapped lips because of the cold - I really should go inside somewhere, but I wasn't particularly in the mood for people right now (or in general) and I needed to sell some more to the young, partying people before even thinking of going home.  
It was too early.

I shivered as I watched a girl around my age trying to walk around in six inch heels, completely wasted. Let's just say she failed. Miserably.  
I snickered as she dropped her bag in the middle of the road and had to bend down (showing half of her ass, by the way) to grab it, resulting in her falling flat on her face. This, of course, resulted in me laughing my ass off, getting a lot of strange looks from by passers. To my great amusement she lifted herself off the ground and walked straight towards me, her eyes not focusing on anything - it was as if she was seeing an invisible fly around her head.  
She almost tripped over the curb as she made her way over to me, her breathing hard.

"What do you sell?" her voice was raspy, and her words made me look at her with pity. Did she really need more?

"That depends. What do you want, doll?" My laughing had finally died down - she was too pitiful to laugh at, I realized.

She didn't even blink before she asked, "Do you have some dust?"

Cocaine and extacy had been the most requested tonight. I had changed locations three times but it was the same everywhere, so her answer didn't surprise me at all. I was just about to reach into my pocket and pull out the _merchandise _as I remembered my list of rules:  
**Rule # 22**: When dealing, beware of who's watching or hearing the conversation with the customer.  
I looked around us frantically, the girl in front of me not even noticing - her eyes were glued to my hand in my pocket. When I was sure the coast was clear, I showed her a little bag with some white powder in it, mumbling, "The very best. You won't be disappointed hon', but I need to know if you have the cash to go with it."

"Here.. Hold this," she slurred, giving me her handbag. I lifted an eyebrow at the little pink bag, knowing that I could just run away with it - she was too drunk to even **try** to run after me anyways, and the cash would do me some good - but then she suddenly stuck her hand in her bra, pulling out some notes. _Oh, so that's where it was. I also wondered how it could fit in that little bag.. _, I noted, lifting the handbag with my index finger and examining it. "How much?" she asked, her voice momentarily startling me. I had a tendency to get lost in my own thoughts..

I eyed the money in her hands - not bad for a 17 or 18 year old. I gave her a price and she didn't even flinch as she counted the money and put them in my free hand, the one that wasn't in my pocket. I traded it for the little bag I had shown her earlier and she stuck it in her bra along with everything else.

"Thanks. You're here every night?" She slurred again, her question making me lift my eyebrows.

"Uhm, no, I switch locations." **Rule # 6**: Never let anyone know your favorite areas or where you will be at a specific time. Because one, police might show up and ruin your plans, or two, the person might have told the police where the meeting place is and ruin your _life_.

"Oh, okay!" she said cheerfully, her eyes nervous. My tone of voice must have scared her off, because within two seconds she was trotting off down the street.

And I smirked to myself, hiding in the shadows again, alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter two**

_Part 2.2_

After two hours of standing in the cold surrounded by drunks and police, I was reaching my breaking point. Plus, I was out of cigarettes.  
Fuck my life.

I could really use a drink, but I hadn't exactly reached my desired destination, money wise. I knew that there would be more customers around if I stayed put, but I couldn't take it anymore. I was cold, pissed off and _very_ impatient.

So on fast feet I made my way to my favorite bar in the area (one of the only ones who didn't care that I was underage) with my head well hidden under my hoodie and my icy fingers in my pockets.  
I thanked the heavens that the bar was heated and sat down on a bar stool. The bartender recognized me as I pulled my hood off, and he served me a drink with a small smile.  
He was one of the few people I liked in this world. Well, not liked, but _tolerated_. He was quite cute with his blond hair and that little bit of stubble on his chin, I recon.  
Normally, every time I was here he would try to start up a conversation with me. Like I wanted that. I was perfectly happy with getting drunk by myself and stare at this cutie when I no longer had any self respect, thank you very much.

An hour later, and he still hadn't tried to talk to me. Somehow this bothered me a bit. Why wasn't he talking to me? It wasn't like he was busy or anything, this was a small bar. I eyed him carefully as he made his way to a table in the corner, cleaning up after a few guys that just left.  
I didn't even know why it bothered me. I liked being alone. And I got irritated when he talked to me, right?  
The clock was nearing five AM, and I knew I probably should get home. Especially since the only ones in here were this old guy, the bartender and me.

Then the old guy left.  
Great, just me and the bartender then. _Should I ask him ...?_ No, what the hell am I thinking, I don't care about this anyway.  
_Fuck this_.  
I got up, left some notes on the table and headed for the door. I could hear him pausing his cleaning behind me as I gripped the doorknob.  
That's when I turned around.

"Why haven't you talked to me tonight?" I knew I shouldn't sound so accusing, I mean, he wasn't even my friend or anything - he was just the only guy who talked to me, in general.

He looked up at me, surprised. I guess I had never striken up a conversation with him before - not a surprise there. "Did-did you want me to?" he asked, his eyes wide open with shock.

"No," I responded. _Lie_.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair while picking up a chair with the other, placing it backwards on the table next to it. "I thought you didn't like conversation," he breathed.

I thought about it, "I don't."

His eyebrows furrowed at my response, "Then why would you want me to- I mean.. What?" He wasn't the brightest of stars, but I also figured I didn't make any sense at all.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it," I said as I quickly made my exit.  
What the fuck was I doing? I _did_ want him to talk to me tonight (and even that surprised me), and him not striking up an unwanted conversation with me .. well, hurt, in some way.  
I liked being alone. I truly did.  
I have been my whole life.  
No one ever loved me, as far as I remember, either. But that didn't hurt me since I haven't felt it; the love from a parent, the appreciation from a friend, or the passion from a lover.

I thought about it. Was I searching for it? That love that I never got myself.. was that why I slept around sometimes, why I wanted that bartender to speak to me again?  
My head spun as I finally got to my apartment. I had totally forgotten about my own rules as my head was filled with such crap, but I still got safely in my room that night.

As I laid in bed the questions were still flooding my head.

Was I finally getting sick of being alone?


End file.
